Tahirah Memory: Through the Analogues of Memory
Photos provided by Tahirah Memory
By Emma Schwichtenberg
In the ever-evolving world of music, few artists embody the essence of soulful storytelling and genuine connection as Tahirah Memory does. With a career that has beautifully woven together elements of jazz, soul, and personal narrative, Memory’s journey is a testament to the power of music as a vessel for both self-expression and intimate connection.
Memory’s musical inclination was not a sudden revelation but rather a natural evolution shaped by her early experiences. Growing up in a home where her father’s trumpet echoed through the halls and handwritten music sheets were a familiar sight, she was immersed in a world where music was more than just a backdrop; it was a living, breathing part of life. Her father’s legacy as a musician and bandleader created a canvas upon which her own musical talents would eventually be painted.
Despite being surrounded by music from a young age, Memory’s initial foray into the world of singing came as a surprise to many, including herself. It was only in grade school that her exceptional vocal ability was pointed out, revealing a talent that seemed as intrinsic to her as her sense of humor. Her early dreams of performing on stage, inspired by legends like Whitney Houston and Mariah Carey, were tempered by a budding interest in teaching and therapy—a reflection of her multifaceted nature and desire to impact the world in diverse ways.
It wasn’t until her early twenties that Memory began to seriously entertain the idea of a musical career. What started as a part-time pursuit soon evolved into a full-blown passion. Opportunities to perform with bands and connect with audiences began to present themselves, and the trajectory of her career took shape almost organically.
As Memory’s career blossomed, so did her horizons. Her travels, which began as a vacation at age 30, expanded into a global journey marked by performances in over 40 countries. Each destination offered not just a stage but a new perspective, enriching her life and broadening her understanding of the world. Sharing these experiences with her daughter—who has journeyed with her through Europe and beyond—has been a source of profound joy and growth, creating memories that will last a lifetime.
Memory spoke with Converge Music recently about travel, family, and her deep connection to music.
Can you tell me a bit about how you discovered your musical inclination and how that led you to pursue a career in music?
I didn’t initially realize I had a musical inclination. My father was a musician—a trumpeter who played his entire life—and our house was filled with his practice sessions and hand-charted music. For someone who’s never seen music being charted by hand, it might seem shocking, but for us, it was normal to have pages of music scattered around the house.
I have three siblings, but none of them are musical in the same way. My brother plays guitar a little, but just for leisure. I was the only one with a notable singing talent, which I discovered when I was in grade school. It wasn't until then that someone pointed out my exceptional ability. For me, singing was just a natural part of my personality, like having a sense of humor.
By the age of eight, I realized I could sing better than the average person, but I didn’t consider it as a career path. As a kid, I dreamed of performing on stage like Whitney Houston or Mariah Carey, but I was also drawn to teaching and therapy, and I envisioned myself pursuing a more conventional career.
It wasn’t until I was around 20 or 21 that I seriously considered doing music part-time, just for fun. It felt comfortable, even though I didn’t feel particularly equipped. Opportunities began to present themselves, and it became natural to sing with bands or have others reach out to me. Looking back, I realize there was no deliberate intention behind it; it just evolved that way.
I know you’ve performed internationally, and I always find that fascinating. Traveling, especially for something you’re passionate about, seems like such a unique experience. It must be both fun and deeply personal in its own way. I’d love to hear more about what that experience has been like for you.
I hadn’t left the country until I was 30, and that was just for a vacation. By then, I was already a mom, and I went with a friend. It was a big deal for me, as no one in my family had traveled internationally—my mom, my dad, and my siblings had all stayed within the U.S. Looking back, it feels surreal that I was the first to leave the country. Since then, nearly everyone in my family has traveled abroad.
I’ve been fortunate to visit over 40 countries through my music career. Some of these places, like Montenegro, were completely new to me before the trip. And it’s been incredible to have my daughter with me for at least half of these trips; she’s seen 20 or 23 countries herself.
Traveling is something I love, and I was already exploring the U.S. extensively. But seeing how other countries manage things like politics and healthcare has been eye-opening. It challenges the notion that America is the center of the world and has greatly enriched my life. Honestly, it might even surpass the impact of the music itself. It’s a powerful motivator to continue participating in music, just so I can keep seeing the world.
How was it going on tour internationally with your daughter?
It was amazing. The first time I left, I was gone for five weeks, and it was really hard on her. As a single mother, with no help from her father, it became clear when I returned that I needed to bring her with me if I could. She was nine when she first traveled internationally with me. Before that, she had gone abroad with her grandmother, but this was her first time with me. We packed up and were away for about six weeks, and that pattern continued—one week, two weeks, and eventually an entire summer in England. I used it as a home base and bounced around while she stayed with friends. I wouldn't have done it any other way. It was an enriching lifestyle for me, and I wanted her to experience the same growth and exposure and she did.
I think that's really sweet. My mom was also a single mother, and I realize now, looking back, the sacrifices she made for us. It's so easy to overlook that when you're younger, but as you grow up, you start to see just how incredible those sacrifices were. They really are like Superwoman, you know?
Yeah? Well, the thing is, I always envisioned a very normal life because I wanted kids and a family eventually. But having her unexpectedly changed that. I didn't fear taking big risks or jumping off ledges when I was younger. With age, I’ve become more cautious because life can be really scary. But back then, I was ready to embrace new opportunities—like taking her with me. Katie Lang was incredibly supportive; she encouraged me to bring my daughter along during our tours. So, my daughter became like my little backpack, and we had some amazing experiences together.
For example, she went to her first club in Prague when she was 10. The venue turned into a club afterward, and they treated her like a little princess. She had mocktails, danced her heart out, and had a fantastic time. She still talks about that experience today, and she's 19 now. The things she saw and experienced have definitely shaped her expectations of what life can be like.
A lot of your performances have been described as intimate experiences for the audience. Why is that? How do you achieve such a strong connection with a large audience?
Well, initially, when I’m writing something, I’m not thinking about performing it for a large audience. I’m more focused on creating something that people might receive in the privacy of their homes or that I’m crafting in my own space. This mindset tends to make the performance feel more like a personal conversation. I’m not scaling my writing to be larger or to reach the people in the back of the room. Instead, it creates an environment where people have to listen intently.
I do perform upbeat shows as well—I spent over 11 years in party bands, played in a wedding band, and was part of a Latin jazz band with Bobby Torres here in Portland. However, for my personal music, it’s more intimate and requires a setting that can support that atmosphere, even if the venue is large. For example, I opened for Robert Glasper at the Portland Jazz Fest in 2021, which was held in a ballroom with 2,000 people. Despite the size of the venue and the standing crowd, the environment felt very personal and emotional.
The key is in the message and delivery, similar to how you would in a one-on-one conversation. If you’re successful, the audience responds to that intention. However, I’ve also performed over talking crowds, so it doesn’t always work perfectly. I aim to create an intimate experience, but I don’t turn inward during performances; instead, I’m very outward. My songs are based on personal experiences, and I think people are naturally curious. If they hear something that seems personal, they tend to listen more closely.
It's a good way of thinking about it. The more honest you are in your music, the more people can relate to it. It gives them something to hold on to.
Totally. Yeah, I would agree.
I would agree. So your music blends jazz and soul, and I know you grew up with a father who was a jazz trumpeter. How did that influence your musical style?
Yeah, what I hear from horn players who play my music, when I do have them in my band, is that I tend to write choruses, melodies, and parts in the song that reflect horn sections or the way that horn charts would be written. I never really thought about it that way, but I’m pretty sure my initial voice came from hearing a trumpet. You probably mimic whatever you hear at home. We had a record player that played old-school soul, and I was a huge fan of '80s and '70s music. So, you know, the kind of music you’d throw on the record player when you’re home on a sunny Saturday morning, with all the windows open—that was the kind of music that flooded my house regularly. Earth, Wind & Fire, Anita Baker, Jack and Gina Marie, Luther Vandross—all full-blown crooners, vocalists, and big band arrangements. My dad also conducted marching bands, so I was never really beholden to one genre.
When I first started writing, I didn’t know what good music was supposed to sound like or what kind of artist I was supposed to be. I just knew I wanted to hit big notes, tell stories, and sound really pretty. However that came across, that was fine with me. I think all of that influenced me, and as I got older, my preferences influenced me too. It’s interesting because I always say I don’t write music that I would listen to. I love the music I’ve written, and I love it as an expression, but it’s similar to a painter who paints abstract art but enjoys portraits or nature. You kind of stretch your art into what is not familiar to you.
While giving away a lot of personal messaging, you’re also in a space to learn. Vulnerability allows you to receive things. I tend to write music that is an expression of myself, but I listen to music that I wouldn’t be capable of writing. I think that’s where the soul piece comes in. I mean, I think there’s a lot of soul in building a track, with thoughts or experiences that I can relate to, but not necessarily things I would have the courage to write down or reflect how I would speak to someone. I think I’ve always been attracted to things that are the opposite of myself—people, foods, all of it. I’m not a religious person, but I find it interesting to explore different stories and ways of living.
I think some time in the past, I wrote down that you mentioned you don't like to listen to music from other artists during the recording process. I was just wondering if you could elaborate on why that’s so important to you.
I don’t—I think that I have a naturally people-pleasing energy. I'm honest and very much myself, but when it comes to art, a lot of what you put out is in an effort to connect with people. So it's like a disruptor—there's this constant thought of, "Will they like this?" When I’m writing and recording, I prefer not to listen to other artists’ music. Over a period of about nine months, I’ll listen only to podcasts. I don’t find it helpful to get inspired by other music during this time, as it can lead to losing direction. I might hear something and think, “I want to do something like that,” or “That sounds so good, maybe I should try it this way.”
My learning style is experiential; if I taste it or experience it, I remember it. I worry that listening to other music could naturally infiltrate or pollute my creative process, even if it’s in a positive way. I want my work to be completely my own, coming from an honest and pure place, without being influenced by someone else’s work. So, I try to stay really focused and maintain tunnel vision.
It’s a hard thing to do. I don’t mean that I don’t come into contact with music, but I don’t intentionally expose myself to it during my creative time. A lot of my creative moments happen in silence, like when I’m driving or in bed, where I might come up with songs without intending to. For me, a lot comes up in silence. Just like any profession, if you have someone micromanaging or if other voices are at play, you’re more likely to be led by them. There’s something special about seeing a finished product and knowing it came entirely from my own head, heart, and body, without outside influence.
During those times when you're trying not to draw inspiration from other songs, what is it that you draw your inspiration from?
Just my life. I do a lot of reflecting, trying to come up with melodies that I've never heard before. I’m also someone who, if I hear a song, can remember it. My daughter always says I have echolalia because I'll remember where a song left off that I heard two days ago and pick up right where it left off when I get back in my car. Anything someone says, I turn into a song, or I'll repeat a sound on the TV.
I find myself in a space where I can be really open to receiving whatever I’ve experienced and learned, using phrases or ideas from my experiences. I try to be inspired by who I am now versus who I was then. I may be trying to mimic a feeling from an artist I heard before, but it’s mostly about stillness. I spend a lot of time on my porch with my partner, drinking coffee, listening to the birds, and observing how everything interacts with each other. My kids and life in general are super inspiring—the good, the bad, all of it. I try to find a rhythm and patterns, and I lay them down somewhere. I want my kids to listen to these songs later, things I don’t want to leave unsaid. Often, I think I'm writing and singing to my younger self.
What messages do you think you're trying to leave for her?
More just memories, you know. There’s a lot of my life that I don’t remember. It’s blocked out for whatever reason. I didn’t grow up in the most healthy environment, and I think that happens to a lot of people. Even stages of life—my mid-20s are a blur. I was pregnant at 25, had a daughter, and was raising her alone. I lived in New York before that and did a lot in terms of music, branching out and seeing myself differently. Documenting feelings, tastes, experiences, and memories from those times through music acts as my personal time capsule.
Is there a specific couple of songs that stand out to you more because of what they encapsulate?
Not all of them, but I would say on my latest record, there’s a song called "Lovely Bones." That song is about my dad and his death. That period was super blurry for me because I was on tour in Europe at the time, and my dad was here in Portland and had died. I struggled to remember how I was feeling and what was happening because I had shows every night. I wrote that song about unfinished business and not being able to say goodbye. I think my kids will appreciate some of the things I said in that song, and it resonated with a lot of people because everyone experiences death at some point.
I’d also say "Never Wonder" on my new album, which was released in 2019. I wrote that song about my daughter, and she sings backing vocals on it. She was about 11 at the time. It’s a gift to have her on a record with me because I didn’t get to do that with my dad before he passed. Having her on that song, expressing my love for her, will be something she’ll cherish. I have a lot of breakup songs, too, and I’m sure some exes wonder if they’re about them. I tend to write love songs, and those often mark significant moments from my past.
Memory is entering a dedicated writing season, aiming to start around October with the goal of completing a new album by the end of the year. She plans to release the album in the spring and is eager to return to touring after a long hiatus. Additionally, Memory has been working on a memoir titled Midlife Crisis, which explores themes of death and personal experiences, particularly for women aged 35 and above. She hopes to release the book in conjunction with her new album.
In the meantime, she continues to perform extensively, including a weekly gig at Mappy’s in Portland, a restaurant in a historically Black neighborhood. This regular performance has been a cornerstone for her community engagement and has supported local businesses. She remains focused on balancing her creative work with quality time spent with her family, having adopted a more relaxed approach to production and emphasizing the importance of taking breaks.
To stay updated with Memory, follow her on Instagram @tahirahmemory.
